Jarod Learns How to Stop Being Alone
by Daria234
Summary: Jarod/OMC. How does Jarod find his home after the Center is all kaput? He finds someone he never had to pretend with, of course. Warnings for slash, a little angst, and a little pr0niness. Don't read if you don't like.


Written for comment_fic on livejournal

Prompt was for Jarod/OMC, living without fear

When the Center - and everyone behind it - had eventually destroyed one another with their internal strife and violence, or, in the case of Miss Parker, had managed to truly leave that life behind, Jarod had to get used to living life without fear.

He still went on jobs. Helping the helpless. Challenging himself to become other people. Learning what it meant to live as a normal human being, but only with the arm's length of a false identity. And always - always - nailing the bad guy.

That's what avenging angels do after all.

But it turns out, when you're not on the run, other fears crop up. Fears that are less intense - ones that build slow, that give you a weight to carry rather than a rush of adrenaline.

Like the fear that deep down, you're not really anyone. That you're just a collection of personae to inhabit.

Like maybe your noble sacrifices aren't so noble. Because truth be told, as much as you care about helping people, their grateful tears and hugs have never been quite as satisfying as the "oh shit" looks from the people you've set up, as they believe you're about to kill them.

So what does it mean for a man with no past to spend his life forcing others to take responsibility for theirs? What does it mean for someone who gets to jump to a new life every few weeks to laugh in the face of wrongdoers who try to beg or bribe him to give them another chance?

Maybe it means that he's empty, profoundly, insurmountably empty, in a way that even the most unethical of criminals are not.

Maybe it means he still has a lot to fear.

And these questions don't go away. In fact, Jarod's been asking himself these questions more than ever since meeting James.

Jarod was pretending to be a brilliant thief at a halfway house, hoping to get a confession from a white collar criminal about where he had hidden the money he had pilfered from hundreds of innocent people. James was the guy who tried to convince the criminals that they could be so much more than criminals. That they could have forgiveness and second chances and a better life. That they should stop being afraid of things that could no longer hurt them. That their past - their upbringing - might have made them who they are, but that they could now choose what kind of men they wanted to be.

Whenever James talked to the group, Jarod was disturbed by all he had in common with the other men at the house.

And of course James took a special interest in Jarod. And he wasn't all flowers and niceness either. He told Jarod that it was clear he was wasting his potential. That he was obviously driven more by anger and bitterness than he needed to be.

It had been a long time since someone had left Jarod speechless.

After the job was over, the money distributed to the victims and the mark sent back to hard time, Jarod showed up at James' house.

"Sorry for lying," Jarod said.

"No, you're not," was the reply, kind but confident in its correctness.

But James invited him in anyway. And Jarod revealed more than he probably should have, and James understood better than most people would have.

And Jarod found excuses to stay in town until eventually he just moved in with James.

They were an odd couple. One who was all about vengeance, the other all about mercy.

And James made Jarod keep thinking about all those questions, those questions about himself that used to fill his abdomen with a stony coldness, with fear and the slippery wash of self-loathing. But these questions weren't so terrifying now.

Because Jarod was starting to feel like he knew exactly who he was. Especially when he went home at night and realized that he actually felt like he HAD a home, or when he cooked dinner for James and they sat on the couch watching Dollhouse together, or when James ran his hands along Jarod's stomach, down to his hips, gripping them tightly, when James' mouth moved down Jarod's jaw to his neck and shoulders, when James' cock pushed slowly into him, setting a steady rhythm that hit Jarod again and again in exactly the right spot. At times like these, Jarod felt anything but empty. 


End file.
